The Shop Girl
by Raptor-Elephant
Summary: COMPLETE. I never expected much out of life. I was just there, woking in a shop. And then I met Ginny Weasley and she helped me live again and so, in turn, I helped her broken brother, George. Read & Review
1. Note

**The Shop Girl**

**Rating:**

It took me a while to figure out what this would be, but I've chosen T (13+) because I'm pretty sure that it's safe here. I did consider M (16+) but all the thirteen year olds I know would be fine with the content in this – It's mainly just mentions in the first chapter or so.

I suppose, I'll put a warning here though, that this story probably does slightly border between T and an M, so don't say I didn't warn you if anyone does think that this is rated wrongly.

Although, if I do get any problems I will quite happily raise to rating.

**Story:**

Basically, this is set a couple of years after the events of DH and focuses around a Muggle girl stuck in a dead end job, with a past she would rather forget. Her life changes drastically when she meets Ginny Weasley who helps her to live again, and in turn, she helps George Weasley who has never recovered from Fred's death.

The first couple of chapters do lack much of anything Harry Potter, but there are small mentions and as it moves on it becomes much more centred around the whole magic world.

It's a short story. It's all been written and there is seven chapters and an epilogue altogether.

**Authors Note:**

I quite enjoyed writing this and I'm hoping that people will review and enjoy reading it. I don't know where I came up with Rebekah's (my OC) story or the idea for this fic, but I'm glad I did.

Flames will be used to roast marshmallows, so please don't waste your time. I don't mind if people don't like this, but you don't need to insult me, okay?

Some people may find it a little of a slow start (personally I like it better this way) but if you bare with it, there will be plenty of Ginny, Harry and George to come, as well as some Ron and Hermione appearances.

**Disclaimer:**

If I owned Harry Potter, Fred would never have died and George's ear wouldn't have been lost (R.I.P Fred and George's ear.) A lot of other characters wouldn't have died as well, including Dobby.

I'm not even going to pretend that I own Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, George, The Leaky Cauldron or anything else you recognise. Would you believe me if I tried? Thought not.

I do, however, own the plot and my OC's; Rebekah, Malcom, Meghan and Florrie, along with a couple of other unimportant ones.

That's about it, I believe.

.Review.

Jenny **x**


	2. 1 Just another shop girl

**A/N: **_I realize that my OC – who yes, IS a Muggle – may seem kinda dull in this chapter, but my intention was to introduce her as a 'real' character, stuck in a dead end job, thinking she's reached her full potential, and getting chatted up my sleezy men every day. And also, don't worry about the complete lack of anything 'Harry Potter' (appart from right at the end) in this chapter, I don't want to rush overly quickly into this story, but don't worry, there will be plenty of George (and quite a lot of Ginny) coming soon._

**The Shop Girl**

**One**

**Just another shop girl**

I was bored, drumming my long nails against the counter. Not only had it had been a long and tedious afternoon, but one of those days when people browsed but not brought, leaving me standing behind the counter like a lonely lemon in a bowl of apples. Idly, I spent my day watching the customers as they flicked through the rack of expensive clothing with distaste; clothing I would never be able to afford. I hated the look of distaste across their faces as they browsed the well tailored, expensive clothing. It sickened me how they always wanted better. Mostly they were men in expensive suits, looking for _more_ expensive suits. Some even eyed me appraisingly, making me wish I were at home under my blankets where I wouldn't be judged.

Because the shop girl always gets judged, be it by men in suits with well paid jobs, or perhaps their snobbish wives or girlfriends, and sometimes even their children, spoilt little things; girls with bleach blonde hair and designer clothes; boys who check out the innocent girl standing waiting to serve them.

I hadn't planned on being a shop girl, no, I had had high hopes and big dreams. I had wanted to make something of my life, but things never work out as people hope, at least, not unless you have a lot of money to buy your way to the top.

I had wanted to be a writer. I had the skill and the imagination to support it, but well... things happened and that dream never happened. I suppose it was for the best, as my grandmother always said, writing is for the lazy bums of the world who refuse to go out and earn an honest living. Mind you, she often had her nose in a book when she said it...

I let out a sigh as I watched a group of friends walk past the shop, giggling without a care in the world. I was like them once. Lively, carefree, _spirited_... I wonder where that girl vanished too? I'm so used to my reflection now that I don't even blink when I see the tired face, neat hair style and proper (but damn right boring) clothes that greet me when I look in the mirror.

I don't even remember when I became like this. How long have I been this boring, polite shop assistant who smiles at the pervey men with wedding bands when they wink and smile my way, hoping that they might let me keep the change, but knowing that they never will? The old me would hate who I've become, she wouldn't give me the time of day. It's the same with most of my friends, but I can't blame them for giving up on me when I've done the exact same.

It's strange to think that I'm not yet twenty, but my life is at its height. I can't see anything happening in my future. I can't even see _much_ of a future. I don't see love, but I see marriage. I see myself getting knocked up after a quick fumble in a damp alleyway with a rich guy who said I had pretty eyes. I see him being pressured into making me his wife as it's 'the proper thing to do.' I see him getting angry and drunk and beating me to an inch of my life because I ruined his life. That's the only amount of life I can picture a store girl like me getting.

Because really, when does it work out for us lot? The ones who have been shoved aside, forgotten about? Apart from movies and books, us lot are forgotten; it's sad, but that's the kind of world we live in, cruel and bitter.

It's sad to admit, but I go home each night, pour a glass of Vodka – half of the time I don't even touch it – and watch chick flicks like _Pretty Woman_, wishing that I could be as lucky as Vivian and get myself out of the dead end I'm stuck in – make something of myself.

'I'd like to buy this please,' a voice said, snapping me from my daydream. My first sale of the day, another suit I noticed. With a smile I took the item from his hands and scanned it, trying not to be surprised at the price.

_Remember where you're working_, that's my first rule.

'That will be £129.99,' I told him. The man didn't even bat an eyelid, I bet he didn't even _look_ at the price before he brought it over as well.

He handed the money to me in cash. _Cash_!

What I'd give to have that much money in my pocket. I struggle paying the rent on my two bedroom flat in the rougher part of London!

'You look positively bored,' he commented as I fumbled for his change. Ah, so he's one of _those_ types.

'Pretty much, yes sir.' Remember to be polite when dealing with customers, it's that or be stacked, as my manger would say.

The young man chuckled at my answer. I looked up, surprised by his reaction. For the first time I took in his appearance. He wasn't bad looking; tall with bright green eyes and neatly trimmed brown hair. He had a nice smile too, which is always good.

'You don't need to bother with the sir,' he grinned.

In a brief moment of bravery I asked sweetly, 'then what am I _supposed_ to call you?'

The man hesitated, perhaps he hadn't expected me to flirt back, but then his grin returned. His grin, although nice, was slightly cocky upon further investigation.

'Well my names Matthew, how about calling me that?'

'Very well, _Matthew_, your change.' I held out the £20 note expecting him to take it. Instead his grin widened.

'Why don't you keep it? Buy yourself something pretty?' My venomous green eyes lowered to the money in my hand in shock. Sure, I needed the money... but there had to be a catch, there was always a catch.

'You seem reluctant,' he grinned. 'Tell you what, come to dinner with me – that can be your thanks.' I was tempted. It was only twenty quid, but it was money that I needed. For working in such an expensive shop, my pay was abysmal.

Finally I raised my eyes to meet his and smiled.

'I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline, sir.'

'Dinner or my money?' He genuinely looked shocked. Obviously it was a first for him to be refused by some pretty shop girl who had no other choice. But If I accepted the money then I would have to accept dinner, and I knew where that would lead... not that I can honestly say I minded too much; this guy was good looking after all. But I'm probably safer in my crappy flat with my Vodka and movies than in his grand apartment in lacy underwear waiting for him to take advantage of me.

'Both,' I answered almost reluctantly.

It's amazing how these rich men can change their personalities so quickly. In an instant his smile was gone and replaced with a sneer. He snatched his change from my hand and picked up his suit.

'Fine,' he snapped. 'You're not _that_ good looking anyway.' I blinked as I watched him leave the store. Was it too much to wish for just once one of these guys being genuine and wanting more than just a quick fumble? Was it too much to wish that _something_ would happen in my life? It didn't even have to be romance, love is so overrated anyway. I just wanted something more. I didn't know how much longer I could bare being stuck in that dead end job with jerks like him harassing me.

And so, as I left work that day I asked myself again: how did I end up like this?

XxX

I awoke with a start as my alarm clock bleeped out loudly. My tousle brown hair fell into my face as I sat up ever so slightly, my arm venturing out from the warmth of my thick duvet to slam down on my alarm, effectively shutting it up. I slumped my head back into my pillow and groaned.

_6 AM_. Far too bloody early.

I wanted to close my eyes and fall back into my peaceful slumber, but I knew that I risked endangering my job if I were late again. I was already in trouble about yesterday, my boss had some how caught the little scene where I denied _Matthew's_ money and he had left the shop in a fury.

Pleasing the customer is our first duty apparently... I think Mr Parker would feel differently about that if he kept hearing moans from the changing room where I would be 'pleasing' the customers if they had their way.

I should quit my job, I really should. But where else would I go? Who's going to employ a girl with no qualifications except an A* in English Lit and Lang? I'm lucky to have landed the job I have as it is. I won't even go into detail about how I got it... I think you can probably guess.

And yes, I am ashamed, but I was desperate.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a common tart. I don't sleep around at all. I may think about it – I definitely did consider it with Matthew yesterday – but I don't go through with it. I'm too much of a wimp, even if sex does seem to answer a lot of my problems. I think there's still enough of the old me inside to not want to go down that road just yet. I don't know how much longer until I give in however. Honestly, if I don't get some more money soon, I don't know if I'll have any other choice but to accept these offers that seem to follow me around.

I don't understand it one bit. I've spoken to some of the other girls who work in the store, and while most of them do get hit on by the men, none of it is to the extent of mine.

Florrie, a shy blonde who honestly wouldn't survive five minutes in my position – she seems far too innocent for one – says it's because I'm so pretty, but I don't belive her. Any good looks I had washed away when the part of me who knew how to live vanished.

I suppose I still have a certain something. My hair falls past my shoulders in chestnut brown, but is always pulled back neatly for work. My eyes are a pretty amazing shade of green, quite unnatural so I'm told. I'm tall for a girl, but still I'm usually dwarfed by the men who come into the shop. I don't have an incredible figure, I'm not amazingly curvy or anything, but I know how to flaunt what I've got... at least I used to, when I still went clubbing and to the pub.

It's funny to think that I'm only nineteen and that part of my life is over. Clubs and pubs aren't apart of my schedule anymore. Instead I act like a middle aged woman who has nothing to love but her cats. Just to prove my point, Tigger, my tabby cat strolled lazily into my room, leaping up onto my bed and curling up on top of me, purring.

'Tigz,' I groaned. If I wasn't awake before, the extra weight on my skinny frame certainly woke me.

I sat up, much to the annoyance of Tigger, who hissed at me before curling up again at the end of my bed. Lazily, and very reluctantly I threw the blankets of my slender legs and stood, stifling a yawn as I walked from my bedroom and into the small kitchen of my flat.

It didn't take my long to find breakfast. Searching through the cupboards I discovered that I only had a bag of slightly stale cornflakes. My fridge wasn't much better, sporting a lump of moldy cheese, a bottle of Vodka and half a pint of milk that was more than likely passed its due date.

Still, not one to complain I poured the milk and cereal into a bowl and spooned it hungrily into my mouth. I didn't bother the wash the bowl when I had finished, instead I ditched it on the work surface, passing my laptop as I did so. I stared longingly at my laptop for a moment, wishing more than anything that I could sit down at the table and type the story I had long since abandoned.

'Stay in the real world, Rebekah,' I muttered to myself, shaking my head and re-entering my bedroom.

Not long later I was showered and dressed for another long day at work. I donned a turtle neck grey top in hope to stop the unwanted attention and my hair was uncharacteristicly down, as I had broken my last hair band last night why trying to pry it from my hair.

'Lewis, you're early,' my boss almost spat out his morning coffee in shock as I entered the staff room and hung up my black coat.

'You you know me, always eager for another day.' He glared at me and I knew I was pushing my luck. There were a hundred other girls willing to do my job, he would have said if Florrie hadn't walked in the room before he were able.

Florrie. His new favourite.

I should warn the girl what he's like, she's only seventeen after all, and far too innocent for a girl her age. But somehow, even though I know she's a lovely girl and doesn't deserve the boss lusting over her, I can't bring myself to tell her to get out while she still can. I can't help but feel bitter when I know that a pretty young thing like her can really make something of her life when I've probably lost the only chance I had of making something of mine.

Instead of telling her to flee from here to a model agency or something, I just smiled at her and said good morning. She's lucky that she mostly works in the office with Mr Parker (even if he is a pervert) instead of having to deal with the customers as the other girls and I have to on a daily basis. I've only seen her behind the till three times since she arrived three months ago.

Apparently she's Mr Parker's sectary. Well, good luck to her I say.

My day was as uneventful as ever, the only height being when Malcom from the Burger King across the road snuck into the store with a vanilla milkshake for me – bless him – and tripped up on his way out. He knocked over a whole rail of clothing, which I, unfortunately, had to pick up.

It was as the day was drawing to a close and I was standing at the till looking at my nails when we got our last customer for the day.

I looked up, surprised that any one would enter the shop so near to closing – usually the shop was dead from 4.30 onwards.

The girl was about my age, perhaps a year younger. She was very pretty with long red hair, brown eyes and freckles. I noticed that she looked very out of place in this store, she wasn't dressed to impress in fur and designer labels. Instead she wore a simple black coat and blue jeans. A long green scarf was coiled around her neck, thrown almost lazily over her shoulder.

For some reason I found myself asking her if she needed assistance, something I never did unless the customer had been standing in the shop for ten minutes looking completely lost.

'Um...' she looked surprised for a moment, but then smiled at me thankfully. She seemed almost overwhelmed to be in this shop, as if she were used to places completely different. 'I'm looking for a black dress,' she said finally.

'For a dinner party, miss?' I asked, already trying to figure out what would suit her most. If I was good at anything in my job, it was picking out clothes for people.

'No,' she answered solemnly. 'A memorial.'

'Oh,' I felt guilty as I realized how sad her chocolate brown eyes looked. She seemed like a kind person, but I could see sadness and anger. 'I'm sorry,' I offered feebly.

'Thank you,' she smiled softly.

I ushered her over to some simple black dresses, a picked out the simplest of them all. It was something I had admired several times while the shop was empty, but even with my staff discount, and even with it being one of the cheaper items in the store, I would never be able to afford it.

She took the dress from my hand and held it up to her slim frame, looking at her reflection without expression. For a moment I was worried I had offended her by picking out something so simple (even though it would have suited her a thousand times more than something more extravagant,) but then the small, sad yet beautiful smile touched her lips again.

'Fred would have liked it,' she whispered.

And that was the first encounter I even had with a Weasley.


	3. 2 New Job?

**The Shop Girl**

**Two**

**New Job?**

As chance would have it, I was to meet Ginny Weasley again, but that was not for another four months. Four months of boredom, spending each day hanging clothes on railings and standing behind a counter.

'You should get out while you still can,' Malcom told me one lunch break as I sat in Burger King, munching on some fries and sipping a vanilla milkshake.

'And go where?' I asked him, looking up into his brown eyes. It seemed that Malcom was the only friend I had left. Perhaps it was because he knew how I felt, he too was stuck in a shitty job, barley scrapping by with enough money to survive.

'Start writing again Bex,' he encouraged. 'Your stuff is amazing.'

I narrowed my eyes. 'You know why I stopped Malcom.' My voice was hard, warning him to drop the subject. My writing was a forbidden topic, which may sound a bit sad, but I preferred it that way. It didn't help me forget or anything, but it did mean that I didn't always have to think about it. About the reason I had to stop...

'Okay, I'm sorry,' he said, sighing and taking a sip of his coke. 'You could always get a different job. How about Top Shop?'

'Great, another clothes shop.' I rolled my eyes.

'At least you'd be dealing with normal customers. I don't like you working in that shop, the amount of married guys who try and chat you up...' he trailed off angrily. I'm not completely stupid, I know Malcom has a thing for me, a rather large thing if I'm honest, but he's not what I want, and he know's it.

'They're doing it a lot less recently,' I said truthfully. The customers I'd been getting in the past month or so seemed to be much more decent, paying me and then leaving without so much as a smile. Sure, I still got the occasional jerk, but that's to be expected.

'Still,' he said, as if that made his point. For a moment we sat in silence, Malcom seemed to be deep in thought, whilst I munched away hungrily on my fries. 'I could have a word with Greg,' he said finally. I looked up at him in surprise. Greg was Malcom's older brother. It was because of Greg that I met Malcom. See, back in the days when I was still happy and lively (I can't belive that was only two years ago!) I dated Greg for a while. Our relationship had been getting pretty serious, but then... stuff had happened and we broke up. We hadn't seen each other since.

'You hate Greg,' I reminded him. Malcom had never forgiven his brother for breaking my heart.

'Yes, but he's my brother and he cares about you.' I resisted the urge to laugh. I couldn't see Greg still caring about me. He dated young models now, his models. See, Greg is a fashion photographer, a good one at that.

'Malcom, I don't want to be one of Greg's little models,' I sighed, getting ready to stand up. If anything, I'd rather be one of Greg's models than return to work, but I wasn't going to admit that to Malcom.

'Rebekah, please,' he sounded desperate. 'You're gorgeous, Greg knows that. You can earn enough to live on if you model for him.'

I sighed and pulled my coat on.

'I'll think about it,' I promised.

Turns out I did more than think about it. Three weeks later, with the help of Malcom, I had an interview with Greg. I was nervous the entire week before. Not because of the interview, that was fine. I was nervous because it meant seeing Greg again, and we hadn't parted on the best of terms. I couldn't help thinking back to what Malcom told me though, about him still caring for me. Was it true?

I tried not to think too much on it as I got ready the morning of my interview. Upon Malcom's instructions, I left my hair down, but added subtle waves to it – apparently it looks better like that. I put a bit of light make up on, but mainly left my skin natural. It was clothing that really stumped me. I had a whole wardrobe full of the type of clothes I knew I should wear, but part of me didn't want to wear them. The thought of wearing a cute skirt and sexy top didn't appeal to me any more. Instead I finally settled for a fitted knee length purple skirt and a cute white top, knowing that Greg would be annoyed that I wasn't showing more leg.

An hour later I found myself sitting uncomfortably in a large and bright reception waiting for the receptionist to call my name. She had looked at me in distaste when I had first entered the building, and had done all she could to ignore me at first. It was when I lost my temper and shouted at her that I had an appointment that she finally told me to take a seat and wait to be called into _Mr. Stevens_ office.

There were a lot of different offices, I noticed. I spotted Greg's one instantly, it was next to one closer to me labled _Dudley Dursley, family portraits_.

I flicked through a magazine while I waited, my long hair falling over my face, casting a curtain so that the receptionist couldn't sit there glaring at me. I briefly wondered what her problem was, but decided not to let it bother me, after all, I doubted I'd be seeing her again. I couldn't see myself returning to this place.

'Miss Lewis,' the blonde receptionist finally called, what seemed like an hour later. 'Mr Stevens ready for you now.' I nodded and, with a filthy glare at the blonde, made my way to the office clearly marked _Greg Stevens, fashion photographer_.

'Ah, Rebekah,' a familiar voice said as I entered his office. I looked up into the smiling face of Greg. It had been so long sine I had stared into his hazel eyes that I had almost forgotten how the green and brown twined together almost fiercely, making a fantastic blend of them both.

'Greg,' I said curtly, nodding my head. He smirked and my formality and indicated for me to sit opposite him.

'Looking as gorgeous as ever, I see,' he nodded approvingly at my appearance. Perhaps I was wrong to think that he was still the same Greg, wanting me to wear as short a skirt as possible?

'Thank you,' I mumbled.

'Malcom tells me that you're looking for a new job?'

'That's why I'm hear,' I said coldly, I wasn't about to play his games. He seemed un fazed by my coldness, and laughed.

'I see you haven't changed much. Lydia, the receptionist, told me you almost bit her head off earlier.' I smirked at the memory. The blonde had looked quite startled when I had lost my rag with her.

'She shouldn't have ignored me then,' I shrugged. I let my self take in my surroundings. Greg had done well for himself, I'll give him that. The office was large and decorated modernly, with large windows and white walls. Several of his photo's hung up on canvass around the room; woman in lingerie and skimpy dresses with wild hair and a ton of make up.

'Impressed?' he asked, catching my gazing at his work.

'The photo's are good, the models look cheap,' I said dryly, just to insult him. His smile didn't falter.

'Well, you'd better get used to it if you want to model for me, sweetheart.' I didn't like the way he was looking at me. I knew that look, and I didn't like it.

'What else should I get used to, _sweetheart_?' I asked coldly, looking pointedly at him. 'How many of your models do you sleep with?'

'Come come, Rebekah, I don't force any of my girls to do anything.' His eyes narrowed slightly, I knew that I was hitting a nerve. I'm sure he liked to be portrayed as the decent business man.

I don't know why I let Malcom talk me into this. I wasn't who I used to be. I wanted to keep away from men like this, not walk eagerly up to them and throw myself at them. I wanted a job where I didn't run a risk of anything more than the occasional flirting of an idiot, if even that.

'You know what Greg, I wouldn't take your job even if there was nothing else in the world for me to consider.' He looked as if I had slapped him as I stood and left the office without a glance back. I was so pissed off as I left the office that I did not notice the couple I was walking towards until I smashed into them.

'S-sorry,' I apologised, glancing into the kind face of a man with unruly black hair and startling green eyes behind glasses.

'No problem,' he grinned. I took in the girl by his side and found myself foolishly saying,

'I know you!' The girl looked startled at my outburst. Obviously she had not expected a complete stranger to burst out with that. She smiled at me with a look of bewilderment across her face. 'S-sorry,' I found myself mumbling. 'It's just I'm good with faces. You can into the shop I work in a while back, looking for a black dress,' I reminded her, feeling like a complete prat.

'Ah, so you're the one who sold her that amazing dress,' the black haired man said. I was a bit surprised about the comment 'amazing dress,' after all it had been simple, albeit pretty, and if memory stands correctly it was to be worn at a memorial.

'I remember,' the girl said with a smile. 'The dress Fred would have loved,' she said, more to herself and the man beside her than to me.

'Well, um.' I suddenly felt like a complete idiot. 'Have a nice day,' I said to the couple before hurrying away. I hadn't got far when the girl cried out.

'Wait!' I froze to the spot. Surly she didn't think I had stolen anything from her did she? That would be just my luck. I spun around to see her mutter something to the black haired man who nodded and kissed her on the cheek before heading, without her, to the office labled _Dudley Dursley._

'My name's Ginny Weasley,' the girl introduced when she reached my side. I was stunned at her friendliness, but smiled back at her.

'Rebekah Lewis,' I informed her.

'Well Rebekah, this is going to sound odd, but would you like to go to lunch with me? My treat? You look like you need a good meal.' Instead of being offended by the obvious meaning behind her words – it was true after all, that I couldn't afford much food at the minute – I found myself flattered that she was being so kind.

'Are you sure?' I asked worriedly. She smiled and nodded.

'Don't take this the wrong way, but you look like you need a good chat with another girl.' She was right. I laughed slightly and followed her from the building.


	4. 3 Finally Free

**The Shop Girl**

**Three**

**Finally Free**

'You must have been hungry,' Ginny chuckled as I wolfed down the last of my pasta that she had so kindly paid for. I smiled at the red head. We had known each other for less than an hour, but strangely I already liked her. What was strange about it was that I so often hated people upon first glances now a days that it was weird to meet someone kind and funny and genuine.

'Starved,' I agreed. 'I've been living off cornflakes for the past few weeks.' For a moment, Ginny looked confused, as if she didn't know what cornflakes were – how could she not? Then a smile broke out across her face and she laughed.

'You've been living off cereal?' she asked. Although she smiled and laughed, I could see she was worried. I suppose a diet of cereal isn't really the most balanced thing in the world. At least it stopped me getting hungry.

'Well I've also had a few fries when I meet my friend Malcom for lunch,' I admitted. Ginny rolled her eyes and grabbed a waitresses attention, ordering me a fruit salad. I couldn't believe how nice she was being to me, and even though I knew she was a nice person, I couldn't help but listen to the voice that always arose when someone was nice to me; what does she want in return?

'You need to have fruit and veg, Rebekah,' she sighed. 'No wonder you look so unhealthy – no offense.' I nodded, there was no use striking a fight and losing any thread of friendship we might have. After all, it was true. I was skinnier than ever, but I suppose nobody really noticed in the model industry – they were all twigs too.

'It's just... I can barley afford the rent on my flat at the moment,' I sighed, tucking into the fruit salad that the waitress put in front of me, smiling gratefully at Ginny as I did so.

'Is that why you were at the photography studio?' she asked seriously. I nodded. 'I don't think modeling your answer.' She fell quite, obviously thinking about something or other.

'Ginny,' I said quietly. She looked up at me. 'Why are you being so nice?'

'You look like you need someone to be nice to you,' she shrugged. I narrowed my eyes and she smiled, knowing that she hadn't fooled me. 'Honestly,' she sighed. 'I've been trying to sort out someone else's problems for a long time now, but he won't accept my help. So I'm practicing,' she smiled brightly at me. I rolled my eyes, but found that I wasn't overly offended that she was practicing her 'helping' skills on me. Why should I complain when I was getting free food out of it?

'I hope I'm helping,' I grinned.

'Probably not,' she sighed, seeming very sad all of a sudden. 'I think George is beyond help...' Curiosity bubbled up inside of me, but I forced it down. I didn't want to pressure someone I barley knew into telling me about her life. Instead, I changed the subject.

'That guy you were with, boyfriend?' Ginny smiled at me gratefully, glad for the change of subject.

'Yeah, his names Harry,' she told me. From the look in her eye, I could tell her feelings for him were serious. I couldn't help but feel jealous that the couple could be so happy when I was single and stuck in a dead end. 'He's visiting his cousin,' she told me.

'Dudley Dursley?' I asked, remembering the sign on the door. Ginny nodded, not asking me how I knew. It was fairly obvious that I had seen which room Harry had one into after all.

'How old are you, Rebekah?' Ginny asked randomly. She still seemed to be trying to figure out something in her mind. The fact that it was clearly about me made me slightly uncomfortable, but I pushed that feeling aside to answer her question.

'Nineteen, twenty in a month.'

'Just a bit older than me then,' she nodded, as if she had been coming to this conclusion all along. 'How would you feel if I told you I might be able to land you a decent job?' she asked after a long silence. I looked up at her, hope sparkling in my eyes.

'You did _what_?!' I looked up, trying to disguise my nosiness for something else. Harry looked surprised, but I was relieved to see that there was no anger in his face. Personally I didn't know what the big deal was. Ginny had said that there was a possibility she would be able to land me a job in a pub she visited occasionally. Okay, a pub isn't the greatest place to work, but Ginny had assured me that the 'oddities' that visit this pub would not be interested in anything more than their drink. Plus, she assured me that as the bar keeper needed help, the pay would be good.

'Shhh!' I heard Ginny hiss. The couple glanced back at me briefly and I fixed my eyes on a tree a short distance away from them, hoping that they would not notice I had been trying to listen in.

Their conversation lasted for another six minutes (I was counting) before they came over to me, smiling.

'Rebekah, do you have a number we can reach you on?' Ginny asked kindly, blatantly ignoring Harry's sideward 'I don't think this is a good idea at all' look. I tried not to feel offended by Harry's actions. It seemed clear that he didn't think I was up to the job, which did put me off slightly. However, Ginny was being so kind to me about everything that I did my best to ignore Harry's obvious resentment towards me.

'Sure,' I smiled. I scribbled down my telephone number and handed it to the red head who beamed at me.

'Lovely!' she exclaimed, handing Harry the number as if she had no idea what to do with it. Harry rolled his eyes and grinned slightly, taking the paper with my name and phone number scribbled on and shoving it in his pocket. I found it un-usual how Ginny acted strangely around such normal things. I remembered back to the first time I had ever met her, when she had looked out of place in the clothes shop – I suppose that's not strange as I feel out of place and I work there! Then there was the cornflakes and telephone number. Maybe I was reading too much into it? It sure wouldn't be the first time.

'We'll be in touch,' she promised me. Surprisingly she gave me a hug. I felt awkward as I patted her on the back slightly, but also pleased that she seemed to like me. Harry reached out his hand – which made me feel even more awkward, at least he looked awkward about it too – and I shook it.

'It was a pleasure to meet you,' I told them with a smile.

'You too!' Ginny grinned. 'I'll find out about that job ASAP! Until then, look after yourself!' I laughed and nodded, watching as, hand in hand, Harry and Ginny turned and walked away, disappearing into the busy London crowds within seconds.

XxX

'What's this I hear about you having a job interview?' Meghan Harper demanded as we packed up for the day. Megan had only been working in the store for a couple of weeks, but the two of us had formed a close alliance, working together to make the days pass quicker.

'Meg,' I rolled my eyes as we covered all the clothing for the night. 'It's only an interview, I haven't got the job yet.'

It had been three weeks since I had had lunch with Ginny Weasley, and I had finally received a rather odd phone call from her four nights ago. When I say odd I mean it in a way that suggests Ginny was not overly used to using a 'fellytone' as she called it by accident. She kept checking to make sure I could hear her, which I found rather funny as, as it where, if she had spoken much louder I would have been deafened.

'Yes, but even so, you're still leaving!' Meghan declared over dramatically. I laughed and rolled my eyes. Since meeting Ginny I had found parts of my former self slipping back out. I was no longer as bitter as I used to be, and had started to form strong bonds with people again. It was weird how meeting one person could do that to someone. Then again, Ginny had made me feel better about myself than I'd felt in a while. I guess that was just the effect she had on people.

'Well can you blame me?' I asked. 'I've been working here for two years, Meg, two bloody years. And they've been hell.' We both chucked, knowing that it was more than likely that Mr. Parker was listening into our conversation on the cameras. I could just imagine the look on his face as I slagged of his job.

'You will keep in touch won't you?' Meghan asked.

'Of course,' I promised. A smile broke out of Meghan's face at my promise. I did feel bad knowing that I would be leaving her alone. She reminded me so much of me that I was sure she was going to hate being stuck here everyday without someone to help will the hours away.

'I'm glad you're leaving,' she said, making me look at her in confusion. She laughed and rolled her blue eyes playfully. 'Not because I want you to leave,' she assured me, putting my mind at ease. 'You just deserve to get out of here, have something worth living for.' I nodded, for the first time in a long while I agreed with what she was saying, I _did_ deserve something better.

I'm not sure working in a pub was the best leap, but it was a hell of a jump better from this place and if the job was offered to me then I wasn't gong to turn it down.

'Hey, you know what, let's go to the cinema or something,' I suggested as Meghan and I grabbed our coats. My interview wasn't until tomorrow and I felt like celebrating the fact that I was leaving this dead end job. I had already resigned, despite not knowing if I would receive the job in the pub or not. Today was my last day, so why shouldn't I celebrate?

'With popcorn?' Meghan asked, her eyes lighting up. I laughed at her reaction.

'If you pay for it,' I told her. I didn't have enough money for popcorn _and_ a cinema ticket. Really, I should save the £5 it would cost me to see a movie, but for some reason I just didn't care. Perhaps it was because I had given up with the bottle of Vodka and so was saving money there?

'Of course,' she agreed wholeheartedly.

'Good luck in you're new job,' a quiet voice said from the corner of the staff room. I turned to see Florrie smiling weakly at me. Although we had never been on bad terms, I was surprised my her gesture, and even more so when she handed me a small box tied neatly with a ribbon.

'T-thank you,' I stuttered, looking down at the box in surprise.

'It's nothing much, but I wanted to get you something,' she smiled. I opened the box to find a small silver chain with a silver tiger at the end. I looked up at her in surprise... could she have possibly read...? She grinned at me sheepishly.

'Thank you,' I whispered, taking out the necklace and fastening it around my neck. For a moment I looked at Florrie surprised. I had never expected any one to make the connection with me and tigers, but it was quite apparent that Florrie had. After a moment I smiled at her. 'Would you like to join us in the cinema?' I asked her. She looked surprised at the offer. After a moment she nodded and she too picked up her coat.

'Goodbye Mr. Parker,' I said as he walked into the staff room. He looked stunned to see Florrie smiling along with me and Meg. 'I'd tell you that I'd miss you, but I don't like lying,' I grinned and waved before linking arms with Meghan and Florrie and leaving the shop for the last time. Mr Parker simply stared at us as we left, surprise and fury etched upon his face.

I didn't care though. I was finally free.


	5. 4 George Weasley

**The Shop Girl**

**Four**

**George Weasley**

I wasn't sure what was suitable to wear for my interview, but as Ginny had forewarned me that it would by no means be a formal thing, I choice to wear simple black skinny jeans, boots, and a cute brown jumper. My hair, as was becoming usual for me now, was left down, falling past my shoulders in gentle waves.

I had no idea where The Leaky Cauldron was, but according to Ginny's directions I had passed it at least a hundred times before. I decided it must have been a tiny place that had just never caught my eye. After all, Ginny had warned me that it was an 'un-usual' place to someone like me. I wasn't overly sure what she meant by 'someone like me,' but I knew I would find out soon enough.

So it was at 10.30 the next morning that I set out to the pub, unsure of what to expect, but knowing that if I were offered the job I would have to accept. After all, what was the likely hood of another job coming up any time soon?

Even though I was certain that the pub had never been there before, I spotted it with ease as I came to a stop outside. For a moment I hesitated. Did I really want to get caught up in some dodgy place where 'odd' people spent their days? But, not wanting to let myself or Ginny down, I took a deep breath and opened the door.

It was quite dingy inside, but by no means was it as bad as I had expected. The place was quite large, and despite its dark and dingy feeling, seemed quite friendly and open. The place was almost empty, which may or may not have had something to do with the fact that it was only 11 O'Clock in the morning.

For a moment I lingered at the door, still unsure of myself. But quickly I found some courage and approached the bar where the man behind it looked up and smiled not unkindly at me.

'You must be Rebekah?' he asked. I nodded, surprised – but glad – that he had called me Rebekah rather than Miss Lewis.

'And you Tom?' I asked, taking on the same tone as him. He laughed and nodded.

'You'll be here about the job then, I presume,' he started. 'Well, I suppose I should ask you if you've had any experience working in a pub before?' Surprised that we weren't going to go in an office or anything – I hadn't expected it to be this informal – I shook my head, feeling idiotic.

'I've seen the ropes though,' I said quickly. 'I've been in enough bars and pubs to see how they're run and how everything works.'

'You've not been in one like here before,' he said mysteriously. I stared at him but said nothing. 'Now, we don't serve none of those drinks you'll be used to,' he informed me. 'What we sell here are drinks such as Firewhisky and Butterbeer.' I nodded, but I had no idea what he was on about. I had never heard of those drinks before in my life.

Tom chuckled at my expression. 'You'll get used to it soon enough.' He stopped for a moment, clearly thinking. 'Ah! Another thing we don't use is any mug– I mean normal money. We have... ah... tokens which our customers use here. Don't worry, you'll get paid normally,' he added at my suspicious look.

Before he could continue, an old lady with a huge wart covered nose and a clock with a hood that covered half of her face approached the bar.

'A mead, if you will Tom,' she croaked.

'Comin' right up,' Tom smiled, turning to fix the drink. I watched carefully, trying to take in all the strange liquids. I was glad I was a fast learner, I would certainly need to be to keep up with Tom. He had the ladys drink before her in a blink of the eye. I eyed the coins she rolled to him suspiciously, they were certainly like nothing I had see before.

'Right, so where were we?' he mused for a moment and then smiled. 'Don't be minding any strange thing that may occur, they're quite natural here.' I nodded, somehow that didn't surprise me. 'That's about it, really. Do you have any questions?'

Only a hundred.

'Um...' I started.

'Excellent,' Tom beamed, ignoring the obvious fact that there was a hundred and one questions floating around my mind. 'Can you start straight away?' I stared at him, surprised.

'You mean, I've got the job?' Was it really that easy? Didn't he want references or anything?

'Don't you want it?' He asked, pushing a glass of something towards me. I looked at it suspiciously. 'It's Butterbeer,' he told me. Cautiously I picked up the drink and took a swig, immediately surprised by how much I like it.

'Of course I do,' I answered his question.

'Then you're hired. I'll supervise you the first couple of days, teach you the money and drink side of it, but I'm sure you'll fit right in.'

I hadn't believed it possible at that moment, but he was right. I did fit right in.

XxX

I'd been working in the Leaky Cauldron for two weeks when I finally met him. I recognised him as soon as he walked into the bar, despite having never met him before in my life.

I could tell who he was not only because of his red hair and freckles, so alike his sisters, but also by the broken and depressed feeling he seemed to carry on his shoulders.

I was in no doubt that he was George Weasley.

Ginny had mentioned him a couple of times now, complain about how he refuses to move on. I had no idea who Fred was, but there was no doubt that he had been someone special to him, someone irreplaceable.

There was no question about it. George Weasley was clearly a broken man.

I watched him curiously as he slummped down at the bar, his long red hair curtaining his freckled face. I noticed almost immediately that where his right ear should be there was nothing. I tried not to gawp at his injury as I continued to clean the glass I had been holding.

I wasn't sure whether to take his order or not. He hadn't tried to grab anyone's attention for a drink so perhaps it would be rude if I tried to disturb him. But on the other hand, I was worried that he was waiting for me to ask him what he would like and thought that I was extremely rude.

Trying to act like a proper barmaid – or at least the ones I had seen in movies – I approached him and rested my elbow near his head, smiling down at him.

'You look like you could use a Firewhisky,' I said. I had soon learnt about all the different drinks served in the Leaky Cauldron and knew that Firewhisky was a popular one for people who were depressed.

Slowly George raised his head to look at me. There may have been surprise in his face, but it was hard to tell through the other, stronger emotions.

'You're not Tom,' he finally said. His voice was weak, as if it was rarely used anymore. I could tell that it used to be strong and probably even mischievous, but that had long since vanished. George reminded me a lot of myself before I met Ginny.

'I should certainly hope not,' I said with a laugh. 'Anyway, how about that Firewhisky?' George nodded and, admittedly not as quickly as Tom, I passed it over to him. 'I'm Rebekah, by the way.' George nodded and gulped down his firewhisky, pushing the glass back for another.

I hoped he wouldn't come in every night and down glass after glass of Firewhisky. I knew from experience that alcohol was not the answer.

Of course, I hoped in vain.

XxX

It was Saturday, and as I got the weekends off from work, I had arranged to meet up with Meghan, Florrie and Malcom, the three closest friends I had in my life right now. Ginny was more like a sister to me than a best friend, which suited us both just fine; she would often worry about me and whether I was eating enough (which, since working at the Leaky Cauldron I was finally able to do).

'Becky!!' Meghan yelled as I reached our meeting place, Burger King. I smiled as I remembered the amount of times I used to spend my lunch break sitting in the fast food restaurant with Malcom.

'Hey, Meg,' I greeted the over enthusiastic raven haired girl. I soon found myself wrapped in a back breaking hug. 'Jeez, Meghan, It's only been a week since I last saw you.'

'A week's too long,' she scolded, finally releasing me to take a look at my new hair style. My chestnut hair had been cut to brush my shoulders and had a fringe which the hair dresser told me made me look more grown up. She smiled approvingly. 'You look great,' she commented.

'You really do,' a voice behind me said. I spun around quickly and a huge smile fell across my face as I saw Malcom. It had been nearly two weeks since I had seen him, and I must admit, I did miss him.

'It's good to see you,' I told him, hugging him briefly.

It wasn't long before Florrie bounced into the room, her blonde hair flowing perfectly behind her. The entire male population of eyes followed her every step, including, to my surprise, Malcom's. I mentally reminded myself to ask him about it later. Had he really gotten over his infatuation with me, or was it just because Florrie was so pretty that she couldn't help but grab your attention?

xxx

'So how's your new job?' Florrie asked as she munched on a sliver of pizza. We were all sitting in a circle on the floor of my flat, several boxes of pizza and coke set in the middle of us.

'Great,' I answered honestly. 'I mean, it's very odd, and I don't understand half of what goes on there, but I enjoy it none the less.' It was true that although I had noticed more than a few strange going ons in the Leaky Cauldron – including the fact that a lot of people came and left through the back door, which upon further investigation I discovered lead to nowhere but a courtyard blocked off my a large wall – the fact was I really enjoyed it there.

'That's good,' Malcom said in relife. He had been the most worried about me taking the job in the Leaky Cauldron. He had been most surprised when I turned down the modeling job with Greg, but he seemed very happy by the change in me these past few weeks. Apparently I was becoming more like my old self. I failed to mention that I didn't want to be my old self. My aim was to become a whole new person, and I at least, felt that I was beginning to accomplish this.

It was when my three friends left later that night when my phone rang, as if it had been waiting for the very moment when I was home alone.

'Hello?' I answered, fighting the smile on my face. It had been a good night.

'Hi Rebekah, It's Harry Potter here.' Instantly I was worried. Harry never rang me. After spending a bit more time with him, I was pretty sure that he did not in fact hate me, but we weren't close enough to have casual phone calls.

'Hey Harry, what's up?' I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.

'Have you seen Ginny?' he asked, sounding worried. Panic instantly flooded my body.

'What's happened?' I insisted.

'She had a fight with George, nobody's seen either since,' Harry explained. I instantly felt relief flood my body. If she had stormed off after a fight then she was probably sulking somewhere, upset but otherwise unharmed. I told Harry this. 'You're right,' Harry agreed. 'I'm just worried about them, this past couple of years havn't been the easiest for them.'

'I'll have a look around, and if I see either of them, I'll try talking to them,' I promised. Harry thanked me and hung up. I glanced at the clock, seeing that it was almost midnight. I knew I wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight and so, with a sigh I slipped on my coat and left my flat, locking the door behind me.

Unfortunately my efforts were a waste of time, for I did not find George nor Ginny that night.


	6. 5 Truths

**The Shop Girl**

**Five**

**Truths**

In the two months that followed the argument between Ginny and George, I noticed changes in them both. George, if possible, had sunk further into depression which made me believe that he and Ginny had once been very close. Ginny on the other hand, tried to act as though nothing had happened, but began to lose her temper easily, even with Harry.

'Rebekah, how would you like to accompany Ginny, me and a couple of others out tonight?' Harry asked in desperation to try and improve Ginny's mood. Harry and my relationship had improved greatly since the first time we had met, but it was still to be a while before I discovered why he had been so against Ginny getting me the job in The Leaky Cauldron.

'Sure, sound's good,' I agreed, when a thought struck me. 'This isn't going to be a couple thing is it?' I asked a little glumly. Harry laughed.

'Well, the other two are a couple as well, but don't worry – we just act like friends. It's not all kissing and cuddling,' he promised. I nodded, I had noticed that although it was obvious that Harry and Ginny were very much in love, they weren't what I had come to expect in a couple. They understood the term 'own space' and seemed to give one another enough of it.

And so I found myself accompanying Harry and Ginny to a small, quiet pub, much unlike the Leaky Cauldron. Although I had grown a fondness of the pub I worked in, it was good to be somewhere normal where I could use my well earnt money and drink something I had heard of.

I was very surprised when I met the other couple. The man was clearly another Weasley, what with his red hair and freckles. The girl accompanying him was none other than –

'Hermione Granger?' I asked, surprised. Hermione had been in the year above me in middle school, but had vanished from the face of the earth in time for High School. I had heard she had gone to a private boarding school, I suppose she was clever enough.

'Rebekah?' she asked, equally as surprised.

'You know each other?' Harry asked, looking between Hermione and me.

'We went to school together,' Hermione explained. Her boyfriend, who I discovered was called Ron, looked at her strangely.

'Harry said she was a Muggle,' he stated dumbly. _Muggle_. That was not the first time I had heard that word. That word had been passed around a lot since I had begun working in the Leaky Cauldron, but I had yet to find out its meaning. Before I could ask, Hermione gave Ron a pointed look.

'We went to middle school together,' she clarified. If anything Ron looked more confused, but the look Hermione gave him made him drop the subject in an instant.

'How have you been?' I asked Hermione good naturedly. The two of us had never been good friends in school, rarely exchanging more than a few sentences. However, she had once helped me out with a story I had been writing for my English class, and so we had been on good terms.

'Not bad, thank you,' she answered with a smile. She hadn't changed much from the ten year old girl I remembered, even if she was twenty-one now. Her hair was the same mousy brown, still very bushy, but pulled back into a neat plait.

'That's good,' I said. 'I thought you had vanished of the side of the world,' I told her. She laughed and shook her head.

'I just went to boarding school, that's where I met Harry, Ron and his family.' I nodded. It must have been nice to have spent your entire high school years with people who were still your friends now. I could only imagine what that was like. I only had Malcom left from the old bunch, but even he was two years older than me and hadn't been at the same school.

I was glad to discover Harry had been right about the whole 'just friends' night. Ron and Hermione spent a lot of the night bickering about something or other, I did catch the word _spew_ thrown in from Ron, and Hermione correcting him with 'no, it's S.P.E.W' to which Ron rolled his eyes.

Over all it was a great night and served its purpose well, cheering up Ginny greatly.

And on Monday night while working behind the bar, Ginny burst into the Leaky Cauldron with a huge smile across her face.

'Guess what?' she demanded of me as soon as she had reached the bar.

'You're engaged?' I asked with a smirk, eyeing the ring on her wedding finger. She saw my eyes staring at her ring and smirk, excitedly waving it in front of me. 'That's great, Gin!' I hugged her over the bar and smiled as she explained exactly how Harry had done it. When she had finally calmed down slightly I let my green eyes fall on George who was sitting miserably on a table in the far corner of the pub. I had long since learnt that the days when he sat at a table where the days when he didn't want to speak. When he sat at the bar, it was a silent signal that I was allowed to chat at him. He barley responded with more than a nod, but I liked to think that my taking helped him.

Ginny followed my gaze and her lips instantly tightened.

'You should tell him, Gin,' I encouraged her, but she shook her head.

'It's been over three years now,' she moaned. 'Everyone else is moving on, but he can't.' For a moment I looked at the sad eyes of Ginny. I remembered when I had first met her almost a year ago now, she had looked so lost that day she had purchased the dress for the memorial. It was a further four months before she came back into my life and helped me break through my depression. She had given me a job, new friends and a new life. It was time I did something for her in return.

With determination I walked over to George, ignoring our set of unspoken rules about when I was and wasn't supposed to talk to him.

'I give up,' I announced, crossing my arms over my chest and staring down at George.

'That's nice,' he muttered, annoyed. 'Goodbye.'

'I will not go away George Weasley,' I said. George had never actually told me his name, but he had never questioned where I had learnt it from. I don't suppose it was hard for even him to see that I was friends with Ginny.

He mumbled something inaudible.

I took that as an offer to sit down, even though I'm positive it was something a lot less polite.

'Listen George, this has got to stop,' I told him. He looked up at me now, his bloodshot blue eyes glaring at me.

'Who are you to tell me what to do?' he demanded. 'You don't even know me Rebekah!'

'That's true,' I admitted. 'But I don't think anyone does. Not anymore.' I softened my tone slightly before continuing. 'Now I don't know who Fred was but –'

'–Then why are you trying to interfere?' he asked quietly. He sounded as if he was surprised that anyone cared enough to try and help him.

'Because I know what it's like,' I whispered. My own eyes felt watery now. George looked up at me, his expression softer. 'Who was Fred?' I asked quietly. I was pretty sure by now that Fred had been a Weasley, but as to why his death had effected George more than anyone else, I was stumped.

For a moment George was silent. It almost looked as if he were struggling to find the words.

'He was my twin,' he whispered finally, averting his eyes from mine. 'My identical twin, my best friend.'

My mouth formed a small 'oh.' I had never had any siblings, let alone a twin, but I had heard of the special bond twins shared. Especially identical ones. 'We did everything together,' George continued. I was surprised that George was still opening up. Whether it was because it was a relief to finally open up about it to someone, or because I had actually managed to make an impression on him in the past few months I wasn't sure.

'How did he die?' I whispered.

'An explosion,' he replied after a moment. 'It was murder really...' I felt tears fall down my cheeks as George continued to tell me all about Fred. He opened up about a lot, telling me about the joke shop he and Fred founded together, as well as their time at Hogwarts. I didn't understand half of it. From what I could gather, Hogwarts was the school he and Fred attended, along with the rest of the Weasley's and Harry and Hermione. Some of the things he told me didn't make sense to me, but George didn't seem to notice, and I didn't want to interrupt his flow with trivial questions.

Tom seemed to understand that George needed me at the minute, as he didn't come over to pester me to return to work, but instead placed two Butterbeers in front of us and muttered 'on the house.' I think he was just as glad as me, and probably Ginny, who had watched us for a while before slipping out, probably to return to Harry, that George was finally talking.

Finally, when George had finished talking, I was able to see him in a whole new light. Before, when I looked at George all I saw was a male version of me, but worse, when I was at my worst. And I hated myself back then, which didn't help me like George too much. I could see that he was a good person who had had bad things happen to him, but I hated (even though I understood it more than others could) how he refused to help himself.

Now, I finally understood (well, to the most part) what had happened to break him, and, knowing that, I felt confident that I could help him. And I really wanted to help him. In fact, I think I'd wanted to help him for quite awhile now, just so I could see the real him, someone I was sure I would really like.

'I understand what you've been through George, and at the same time I can't begin to grasp what it must have felt like to lose a part of yourself.' I reached out my hand and squeezed his own. 'But you really must ask yourself, would Fred have wanted you to lose yourself like this?' I knew instantly I had said the wrong thing. George yanked his hand free from mine and glared at me.

'What do you know?' he asked, his voice dangerous and frightening. 'You didn't know Fred, you wouldn't know what he'd want.'

I gulped slightly but steadied my voice before speaking. 'You're right, I didn't know Fred, I think I would have liked though. I think I would have liked to have known George too,' he stared at me blankly. 'You're not George,' I told him, staring straight into his confused eyes. 'You're not the George that Ginny, Ron, Fred and your other brothers grew up with. You're not the George that you just told me about. You're not the George that all your friends loved. You're not the George that I want to get to know.'

For a moment I remained silent, hoping that all I had just said would soak into George's skull.

'So you're right,' I continued. 'I didn't know Fred, and I don't know George. But I know you.' I think I had lost him now, but I continued anyway. 'You, George Weasley, are the ghost of a man I'd like to know. The ghost of a man that people would like to see return. And I know you because I was you once.'

I took a deep breath. I was scared, but I had to do this, I had to finally tell someone my story.

'When I was a kid, I loved to write,' I began. 'I even, at the age of fifteen, got a childrens book published. It was about a family of tigers,' I played absent mindedly with the tiger necklace that Florrie had given me. 'And then, when I was sixteen I finally started a bigger project. It was going to be an amazing book, I just knew it. I had everything planned out, from start to finish.

'And then, at my first New Year's Eve as a seventeen year old, my parent's and I got invited to a party. My mum didn't drive, and my dad had been exceptionably tired all day and hated driving in the dark. Because of this, my mum suggested that Dad drive us to the party and I drive us home. It was a good plan, but I refused, saying I wasn't going to the party. I had just gotten into a flow with writing my story and didn't want to stop. Mum argued with me, but dad said it was fine. He said he wouldn't have any alcohol at the party and would instead drink a lot of coffee, that way he would be awake enough to drive home.

'Of course, mum put up a fight, saying that they just wouldn't go, but dad was having none of it. He said that they would be going to the party, it was the only polite thing to do.' I was crying now as I continued my story.

'I didn't even say goodbye to them that night. I just dismissed their goodbyes and continued typing. Of course, how was I to know what would happen? I wasn't to know that a huge lorry carrying gas would lose control and smash into my parents little car, causing it to explode instantly.

'Even so, I blamed myself. Especially for the first day or so when I didn't know any details. I thought Dad had fallen asleep at the wheel and they had crashed into the truck. I hated myself because of that. I remember saying "if only I had of gone with them, I could have driven us home safely." Of course, I later found out that I would have been dead too, driving or not, had I of accompanied them, but that didn't stop the guilt.

'Because of what happened I stopped writing. I didn't want to do that anymore, not when I blamed me and my writing for my parents deaths. Instead, I found myself in a shitty job, getting chatted up by sleaze bags everyday and going home to a bottle of Vodka and an empty flat apart from my cat. My friends tried with me, they honestly did, but finally they gave up. They all wanted to move on with their lives, but I wasn't even living mine any more.

'And then I met Ginny. It's funny how one person can change everything. I'm still not completely cured, I can't see myself writing again any time soon, but I have friends again, I have a life. I have a job I love and heck, my cat likes me!'

George stared at me for a long moment after I finished my rant. For a moment I was worried that I had just opened up my biggest secret to someone who took no effect from it, but then, amazingly, a ghost of a smile touched George's lips.

'Your cat likes you?' he repeated.

I laughed. 'The bugger used to hiss and scratch me all the time. Now we get alone just peachy,' I explained.

Silence fell over us again, but our conversation tonight seemed to have done something to George and soon he was speaking again.

'You said laptop, car and vodka,' – blimey he had been paying attention. – 'Are you a Muggle?' Theres that word again. _Muggle_.

'What exactly is a Muggle?' I asked, finally bored of not understanding things that where clearly obvious to other people.

Amazingly, George's smile widened somewhat, although I'm positive it was still a frown compared to his old one.

'Blimey, you are! How did you manage to land a job here?'

'Ginny spoke to Tom for me,' I shrugged, not really understanding the connection between the word Muggle and the Leaky Cauldron.

'I never knew,' he mused.

'What?' I demanded.

'That you're a muggle.' _Obviously_. Of course. Most obvious thing in the world. What the _hell_ is a Muggle?!

George laughed quietly at my perplexed look.

'You'll learn soon enough,' he promised me. 'I think you're going to wish you never said you wanted to meet George Weasley.'

XxX

_**A/n: **__I may have written this a bit quick for some people's liking, but remember, this is only meant to be a short story. Thanks for the reviews so far. Next chapter soon =]_

_Two more and an Epilogue to go =] _


	7. 6 The Muggle and the Wizard

**The Shop Girl**

**Six**

**The Muggle and the Wizard**

George was wrong when he said I would regret wanting to meet George Weasley. If anything, I adored him. Of course, it took him along time to fully come out. I don't think George ever really recovered from Fred's death, but who could blame him really?

The conversation that night in the Leaky Cauldron had been progress at least. Ginny phoned me up a couple of days later with a huge thank you and incredible news.

George was going to re-open _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes_, and not only that, but he wanted me there for the grand re-opening.

'You sound like you think it's a bad idea,' I said down the phone after she told me.

'It's not that,' Ginny sighed. 'There... there's a lot you don't understand. Something George finds amusing – which is incredible in itself as I didn't think I'd ever see George smile, let alone laugh again – but it's not really. It's quite serious.'

'You can trust me Ginny,' I promised. I knew there was something going on. The Leaky Cauldron wasn't a normal pub, that was certain at least.

'I know,' Ginny sighed. 'Harry's going to speak to Kingsley Shacklebolt about it.'

'Whose he?' I asked blankly.

'Our Minister,' she explained briefly. 'Look, I can't say any more about it over the phone. Meet me in the Leaky Cauldron in an hour. I'd wear something smart, just to make an impression incase Kingsley turns up.'

Although confused, I agreed to meet her and then hurried into my bedroom, stopping only to scratch Tigger's ear briefly. It wasn't hard to find something smart to wear, as I still owned all the clothes I wore when I worked in the shop.

I opted for a knee length black skirt, tights and a white shirt with a black belt around my middle. I pulled my hair pack into a high pony tail and slipped some earrings into my ears.

Satisfied that I looked good enough to meet this 'Minister' I let my flat, crunching on an apple as I headed towards the Leaky Cauldron.

Ginny was already there when I arrived, and sitting with her looked to be her entire family along with Hermione. Feeling instantly uncomfortable, I walked over to the table.

'You must be Rebekah,' Mrs Weasley said with a kind smile. I could tell instantly that she liked me, and that she was grateful for helping to bring George back to her.

'I am. It's nice to meet you finally, Mrs Weasley,' I said politely.

'Please, call me Molly,' she insisted. She indicated to an empty chair beside her, and I sat down. 'Thank you so much dear, for what you have done for this family,' she said quietly, obviously so that George, so fat further down, and opposite us would not hear.

'It was nothing,' I smiled. 'But you're welcome all the same.'

'I'm Arthur,' Mr Weasley introduced himself next, leaning over to shake my hand vividly. 'Now, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind explaining the function of a –'

' –Not now Arthur!' Mrs Weasley hissed. Mr Weasley looked down guiltily while Ginny and Ron shared a smirk.

'This is Percy, Charlie and Bill,' Mrs Weasley introduced the three Weasley boys I had never met before. 'Fleur, Bill's wife, would have been here, but she had to look after Victoire.' I nodded, unsure why the whole family was present anyway. It was nice too meet them, but I felt uncomfortable with it being in the place I work when they were disgussing whether or not they would let me in on the big secret.

We only had to wait a further five minutes for Harry to walk in, accompanied by a large, dark skinned man.

'Rebekah,' Harry approached me. 'This is Kingsley Shacklebolt.'

'I-It's a pleasure to meet you!' I exclaimed nervously, extending my hand and shaking his. Once Harry and Kingsley had each taken a seat I felt everyone's eyes turn to face me, making my pale skin burn red.

'Now, this is a matter of great importance,' Kingsley told me. I nodded weakly, suddenly wondering if I really did want to know the secret. Perhaps it would simply be better for me to live in ignorance? 'I understand that you have been working here at The Leaky Cauldron for approximately a year now?' he continued.

'Yes sir,' I answered feebly. George grinned weakly at me from across the table.

'And in that time have you noticed anything strange about this place and the people who visit it?' Kingsley continued. I nodded.

'A great number of things,' I answered.

'And have you told anyone about any of these strange things?' He pressured.

'No,' I answered honestly. 'I mean, I mentioned to my friends that it was an odd place, but didn't go into any amount of detail, and 'an odd place' can mean any amount of things.' I knew I was rambling slightly, but it was my nerves.

'Indeed,' Kingsley agreed with a small grin. Obviously my nerves were quite obvious and they were amusing him. 'Now, I am to understand that you have a close bond with both Ginny and George Weasley, as well as a friendship with Ron Weasley, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger?'

'T-that's true,' I agreed, hoping the others felt the same. At least Ginny was nodding eagerly.

'Now, Miss Lewis, you must understand that this is a matter of great secrecy. Usually, Muggles like yourself only know about us if they marry in or if their children are Muggle borns such as Miss Granger.' I nodded, although I wasn't entirely sure what was going on.

Kingsley smiled again and laid a long thin piece of wood on the table before us. 'Do you know what this is, Miss Lewis?' he asked me, carefully watching my reaction.

I was tempted to say '_a twig_', but somehow I knew that was not the right answer. Instead I leaned closer to examine it, my eyes growing wide as I came to my conclusion.

'It's... why, It's a wand!' I exclaimed, stunned.

'Very good,' Kingsley said. 'Now understand that with this wand I can erase your memory in a second. That does not have to be the case if you promise to keep our secret to yourself. Do you promise not to tell a soul, Miss Lewis?'

I nodded. 'I promise,' I whispered.

Satisfied, Kingsley then went on to explain all my unanswered questions, including the one that had been bothering me the most.

_Muggle_.

Did you know that Muggle means non magical person? I do, which I'm glad for, as I was starting to think that everybody had been insulting me when they called me a Muggle.

And so finally I was in on the secret. I finally knew that I was a Muggle and George a Wizard.

And I believed every word.

XxX

'George Weasley!' I screamed after I had shed all my feathers and was quite certain I was once again a human rather than a bright yellow canary. He laughed and popped up behind me. 'See if I ever accept food from you again,' I scoffed.

'You always say that Reb,' he laughed, poking me in the side.

It was true, I said it after eating a Ton-Tongue Toffee, Fainting Fancies, Fever Fudge, Nosebleed Nougat, Puking Pastilles and now the latest George had tricked me into eating, a Canary Cream.

'I mean it this time,' I warned, pointing my finger at him in what I hoped was a threatening manor.

'You'll just encourage him,' Ron warned me as he continued to stack the shelves in WWW with the different products.

'I know,' I sighed, sitting down on the counter.

It had been four months since that dreaded day in the Leaky Cauldron where I had finally learnt the truth. George was recovering well, but could still be a little quiet at times, and his smile didn't always meet his eyes.

Ginny and Harry had set a date for their wedding, and Ginny insisted that I be a bridesmaid. I had to admit that I was quite looking forward to it.

Something startling that had happened was Ron proposing to Hermione. George, Bill, Charlie and I had been taking bets on whether he actually would or not. I won quite a lot that day, it seemed George, Bill and Charlie had little faith in their youngest brother.

I had a strong friendship with all the Weasley's now, as well as Harry, Hermione, Fleur and Lee Jordan (who had been a close friend of the Weasely twins, and had been over joyed by George's recovery.) I have to say though, that none of my new friendships were quite as strong as the ones I had with Ginny and George. Those two were my best friends. They had even met my Muggle friends; Meghan, Florrie and Malcom. Oh, and George had a special bond with another important person in my life, Tigger _adored_ him!

I was still working in the Leaky Cauldron, but I also helped out a lot at WWW, as it could get quite busy and George needed more than just Ron to come up with new ideas. I liked to think that they needed my Muggle brain to help them along. I think George quite fancied my idea of gender changing gum, although Ron didn't see the point.

'Well, Ronnie, if you were a girl you could stand in front of the mirror all day, naked.' George explained to him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. I rolled my eyes. George was getting pervier every day.

'I'm off,' Ron declared as he finished stacking the last shelf.

'Good,' George grinned cheerfully, ushering his brother from the shop. 'I have a present for you,' he rounded on me.

'Oh no,' I groaned.

'You'll like it,' George promised.

'I doubt it,' I muttered, but I accepted the long thin box he handed me anyway. Taking of the lid I saw a long quill in the exact same shade as George's eyes.

'I've been working on it for the last month,' he told me. 'It's similar too the Spell-Checking quill, except it rewords things in a more creative way incase you're having an off day and can't word anything right.'

'Thank you,' I muttered, placing the lid back on the box. George looked started at my reaction.

'You don't like it?' he asked.

'I do,' I answered. 'It's just... Oh George! You know I can't write anymore!'

'Rebekah,' he said sternly, coming up to my side. 'Make an effort for me,' he begged. 'Do you know how much it hurts to walk into this shop and open up every morning as if nothing had happened? Do you know how sad and angry I feel every time that I work on a new product?'

I shook my head, tears clinging to my eyes.

'It's not the same,' I insisted.

'Why not?' he demanded angrily. 'You made me face my fears and get on with life, yet you wont do the same?!'

'You're brave George, you're so brave. It may hurt you, but you deal with it. I can't do that. I'm not brave.' I felt like an idiot as I spoke. I was doing exactly what I'd been telling George not to.

'Rebekah, you are brave. You're brave and funny and clever and... and you're _beautiful_.' I froze at his words, my eyes locking with his. He looked so much healthier now, his eyes rested and no longer blood shot. His face was no longer shallow and starved. He looked good. Really good.

'Why can't you see it?' he asked me gently. 'Why can't you see how great you are? You can write Rebekah, you're just using your parents death as an excuse not to.'

I blinked, staring at him in shock. Using my parents death as an excuse? Why the hell would I do that?!

'You are brave Rebekah, but there's so much that you're afraid of.'

I saw the look in his eye and realized in an instant that it was true; there was a lot I was afraid of. Without another word I turned and fled from the shop.


	8. 7 Somebody

**The Shop Girl**

**Seven**

**Somebody**

I avoided George for a whole two weeks after our conversation in WWW. I couldn't face him after the truths he's spoken. It was true that it was wrong for me to tell him to do something when I refused to do it myself. It was true also that I was afraid.

I was afraid to start writing again, I was afraid to move on completely from my parents deaths. But more than that, I was afraid of my growing feelings for George. I was afraid because I knew how strong my feelings for him were, but I also knew that I had only ever been hurt before.

I wanted to belive that George wouldn't hurt me, but it was hard.

'Speak to him,' Ginny encouraged me several times a week, but each time I would remain stubborn and shake my head. George hadn't made an effort to speak to me, so why should I with him?

I did really want to speak to George though. I wanted him to come to me though, for I was too stubborn to go to him. And so, when there was a knock on my door one night, just over two weeks after our argument, I flew to the door, hoping more than anything that it was him.

It wasn't. It was Kingsley Shacklebolt.

I was stunned. I hadn't expected to find the Minister of Magic at my door.

I let him in and offered him a drink, which he declined. Feeling incredibly nervous I couldn't help but say,

'I haven't told anyone, I promise.'

Kingsley chuckled.

'I know, that's not the reason I'm here.' I felt relief sweep my body. 'I came here tonight with some new information on your parents death,' Kingsley told me. I stared at him in surprise. Why did the Minister of Magic want to talk to me about my parents? 'I belive you were under the impression that your parents death was caused by bad driving of a lorry driver?'

'Yes,' I nodded.

'In recent light we have discovered that your parents were one of the families involved in a mass murder caused my a Death Eater, Amycus Carrow. It seems your parents death was caused my him sending the lorry flying across the road in an attempt to take out as many cars as possible. Fortunately, there were few victims to this cruel act.' I nodded numbly. I had always blamed myself more than the lorry driver, but there had always been a certain amount of resentment to him. To discover that he had been cold heartedly murdered along with my parents for pleasure shocked me.

'T-thank you for telling me,' I mumbled.

'I felt that it was best for you to know the truth,' he told me, resting his hand on my shoulder for a moment before saying goodbye and leaving. I sat knowing that this new bit of information changed everything. My parents hadn't died in an accident. Their death had been caused my a Death Eater, whom I know knew were responsible for a lot of the deaths and strange things that had happened a few years ago.

I don't know how long I sat in silence, but the phone rang several times and I ignored it. It must have been quite late when I heard the familiar _crack_ of someone apparating. I didn't even bother to look up to see who had entered my flat without having the curtsy to knock – although I doubt I would have answered the door, I think I was in shock.

'Rebekah?' It was George. A few hours ago I really wanted him to come round to see me, but now I couldn't help but wish I were alone. 'Reb, you're not the only person who lost people at the hand of a Death Eater,' George reminded me.

'I know,' I answered look up. 'It's just... that news made me think. There's been so much little connections throughout my life that have connected me to the magical world.'

George looked confused. 'What do you mean?' he asked.

'Knowing Hermione at school,' I started to list. 'My parents being killed by Death Eaters, meeting Ginny in the store I worked in when she could have gone anywhere else in the world. Being in the same building where Harry's cousin worked and happening to meet Ginny and Harry there. Working in a magical pub without even knowing it...' As well as my parents, this was what had been flowing through my mind in the last few minutes. Of course I was upset about finding out my parents accident had not been accidental, that was devastating to find out. But I had cried my tears for my parents, and didn't want this new bit of information to send me back from where Ginny had so recently saved me. Besides, I was intrigued by this new bit of information. As I had told George, it was another piece that linked me towards him.

'You think someone's been messing with you or something?' George asked. I shook my head.

'No,' I said. 'I think it was fate. I think each of these little things was leading up to now... to us.' I locked eyes with George. Did I truly believe my words? Did I belive that all these little connections had lead me towards George? Yes, I think I did. 'I think it was destiny that we should meet, and that we should help each other.'

George smiled. 'Have I helped you then?' he asked.

'More than you could ever know,' I admitted shyly. Because he had, I mean, I still didn't feel like writing, but I now felt as if I could. I could see myself writing again in the near future.

'That's good,' he smiled. 'I hope I'll get to read more of your work soon.'

'More?' I asked, raising my eyebrows. George grinned sheepishly and withdrew a very familiar book from his pocket.

'Florrie gave it to me,' he admitted. 'It was good. Strange to read something so clearly Muggle, but really good all the same.'

I smiled and found myself in George's arms, hugging him. 'Thank you George.'

'You're welcome Reb,' he said gently, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. 'Although,' he whispered. 'I should be thanking you really. You've helped me me more than I have you. You helped me see that it was time to move on, it's what Fred would have wanted. In fact,' he trailed off for a minute, his eyes searching mine. Finally he spoke again, his voice very soft. 'I could just see Fred telling me to do this.' And then he brought his lips to me, slowly closing the gap between us. My eyes flickered shut automatically as his lips pressed softly against my own. My hands found his hair as the kiss deepened somewhat, our lips moving together in perfect synchronization. We both had smiles on our faces as we drew apart.

'You know,' George said, playing with my hair some time later. We were curled up on my couch, my head resting on George's chest. 'I think I fell in love with you the first moment I ever lied eyes on you, when you said that I looked like I could do with a Firewhisky.'

I smiled, remembering his reaction to me. '_You're not Tom,_' he had said to me. He had been a broken man back then, but I still found myself glad that he had loved me even then.

'I didn't think anything would come of it, but I did really like you. I liked how you made an effort with a depressed git like me. I liked how you understood when I didn't want to talk. I liked that you demanded the truth from me even when I was so rude about it.' George listed off. I rolled over slightly so that I was looking at him.

'I'm glad I met you,' he muttered. I smiled and nodded.

'I'm glad I met you too,' I told him. 'And I love you too.' I brought my lips back to his and kissed him.

And in that moment I knew that my life would be great. I was no longer the lonely shop girl with no future. No, I was now somebody. I was somebody to George. I was somebody to my friends. And most importantly I was somebody to myself.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Epilogue to go. Thanks to all who have reviewed and added to alerts and favs =]_

_x _


	9. Epilogue

**A/N: **So here it is at long last – the Epilogue! It took me longer than I had expected to put this fic up – but it's done now. I may yet do a sequal, but I'm not sure. If I do, it probs won't be for a few weeks though – also, it depends on whether you guys want any more, or whether you think its best to end where I have.

Thank's so much for the review, alerts and favs throughout this fic =D

I'm not overly happy with this ending, but it wraps things up to some extent – I didn't want to go for the whole '10 years later and everythings _still_ disney perfect,' so I wrote it like this instead, as I'm not sure what would happen between Reb and George in ten years (though they would still be together, I'm sure.)

Review.

**The Shop Girl**

**Epilogue**

'Rebekah, what are you doing?' I looked up, surprised to hear my voice. I'd been hiding out in the backroom of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, working on George's latest joke product. Strictly speaking, George had wanted me upstairs all of the time – the over protective git – but that was far too boring.

'Working,' I replied idly to Lee Jordan, who was leaning against the door frame staring strictly at me.

'So I see.' He left the door and walked over to me, sitting on a large crate in front of me. I sighed under his gaze, knowing that he would not drop the subject. 'Reb, George is trying to protect you, not lock you away.'

'Could have fooled me,' I mumbled, placing down my pencil and leveling my green eyes to Lee's. I knew Lee was right, George wanted me upstairs resting. Keeping me out of the way was not a part of it, George himself had told me that he would love me to sit by his side all day. However, the shop was too crowded, and he was afraid someone might accidently knock into me. It was bloody ridiculous if you asked me. It wasn't like I was dying – far from it. Last time I checked, pregnant woman were still able to live.

I was five months gone, carrying our little baby Fred – we were both certain that it was a boy. George and I were not married yet, although he had proposed shortly after we discovered I was pregnant. A date was not yet set, for neither of us was in any hurry. We loved each other a lot, and had agreed that just because I was pregnant, we did not need to rush into a wedding. We wanted it to be the perfect day, and to rush would spoil it.

It had been two years since we had become an item, and actually, the entire Weasley clan was surprised George had not popped the question sooner. We had been almost inseparable for the first few months, but then we had learnt to carry on with our lives without needing to rely on one another constantly. For my part, I had continued with my muggle life as much as possible; seeing my friends and going out with them on weekends when we were not working. They did not know anything about the magical world, and it was safer that way. I trusted Meghan, Florrie and Malcom with my life, but I had decided that – although I had been given permission to tell them – it was best not to. I didn't want them to have to struggle with keeping such a big secret. One wrong word and they could accidently tell someone else. I didn't belive that they would, but by not giving them the option I knew that they would never have to worry that they might slip up.

Because of this, George and I had agreed that when we finally did get married, it would be as muggle as possible, so that my friends could come without suspicion. Authur seemed very pleased about this idea at least – the man adored muggles!

I had also begun writing again. It had taken me a while, but finally George had convinced me. I was glad he had, I had forgotten how much I loved writing. While I was working on a story, I could get lost in it for hours.

George had continued improving, and had become much more enthusiastic about his business. He had purchased another shop in Hogsmeade, formerly known as Zonko's Joke Shop and had reopening it as another WWW, as business was so fantastic. Hogsmeade's WWW was mainly run by Lee Jordan, as George spent most of his time in Diagon Ally so that he could be with me.

'Reb,' Lee sighed. He had come down to Diagon Ally to speak with George about a new idea, but had yet to get the chance as George was busy entertaining his customers.

'I know, Lee,' I sighed. 'And I don't blame him. But I'm sitting in the back room – it's empty in here, I won't get hurt.' Lee considered my words for a moment before nodding.

'I guess you're right. George is pretty over protective – but you can't blame him.'

'I know,' I replied. 'So,' I changed the subject. 'Have you had a chance to see George yet?'

'Nope, he's got quite a fan club. And I think you've got competition.' I narrowed my eyes which made Lee laugh. 'There's a little girl called Elizabeth who's stuck to George like glue, I think she was trying to persuade George to marry her when she gets older.' I couldn't help but laugh as I pictured George's face at the question.

'Lee, there you ar– Reb, what are you doing down here?' George entered the back room, a small blonde girl of about 8 was hiding behind his back – I guess she was Elizabeth.

'Now don't get mad,' I started. George rolled his eyes, but smiled at me to show that he wasn't mad. I suppose he did understand how bored I was upstairs, he was just so over protective that he didn't like to admit it.

'You can stay,' he answered my unasked question. I sighed in relief, glad that I did not have to return upstairs alone for another few hours. I had spent the morning writing, and whilst I was enjoying doing so, I wanted to split up my days and do something else.

'Whose your friend?' I asked with a small grin, nodding towards Elizabeth.

'I'm his _girlfriend_,' she spoke out proudly. My grin widened.

'Really?' I asked. 'Lucky you, you got yourself a handsome one there!' Elizabeth nodded in agreement and George chuckled.

'You should go find your mum now Lizzie,' he smiled, turning to face the little girl and crouching down to her level. She looked disappointed. 'I'll see you again real soon, I promise,' George said, pulling a pink Pygmy Puff from his pocket – I honestly don't know why the poor thing was in his pocket. 'Here you go,' he handed it to Lizzie. 'He's called George.'

'Like you?' Lizzie asked.

'Yup, just like me!' Lizzie ginned and accepted the gift before waving goodbye and hurrying back into the shop to boast to her mother no doubt.

'You're a natural with kids,' I commented as George walked over to where Lee and I were sitting.

'Not bad mate,' Lee agreed. 'Baby Fred will be lucky to have you.'

'Cheers, listen Lee, why don't you go upstairs. I'll be there in a min – Verity's handling the fort for a while.' Lee nodded, smiling wickedly as he looked between me and George. He got up and left the back room, pausing only to wink at me. I rolled my eyes.

'Honestly, did Lee ever grow up?'

'Did I?' George countered, with a smirk.

'True,' I grinned. George took my hands in his, smiling slightly as he caught glimpse of the engagement ring shining on my finger.

'What're you up to?' he asked me, glancing from my eyes to the notes on the table.

'Working on the Pocket Portable's,' I answered. The Pocket Portable's were George's new product; handy portable items that you can take anywhere – all of them pocket size.

'Just don't push yourself too much,' he said, turning back to me.

'George, I'm sitting down in the back room going over notes, not trying to climb Mount Everest.'

'I know... I just worry,' he confessed.

'And I'm glad you do, but please don't forget that I am still a living, breathing person. I need to do things, not be locked up in a cupboard.'

'Damn, I was so hoping to keep you locked up,' George mumbled, leaning closer to me.

'Don't be dirty,' I scolded seconds before his lips crashed against mine in a passionate and loving kiss.


End file.
